Almost Paradise
by IDreamofHouse
Summary: First, there was Southern Comfort followed by Wicked Games. This is the third and last installment in the Huddy Trilogy where House and Cuddy embark on a new adventure across the Atlantic. It picks up immediately following the last written chapter.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: And of course, I don't own House M.D. or any of its characters. They rightfully belong to David Shore. But I'm having a shitload of fun putting them all in compromising situations.

Chapter 1

Cuddy wept inconsolably in House's arms after Tritter left. She was fine with everything at first, trying to put the knowledge of past events behind her. But every attempt to block out the detective's chilling words in her head was futile. As strong as she was she couldn't overcome and shake the incredible fear, devastation and sadness slowly consuming her, invariably projecting her outward emotions.

"That's okay," House quietly spoke. "You have every right to cry." He held her closely and kissed the top of her head, comforting her as she cried on his shoulder. "_Shh, _let it out_" _he said in a calming tone of voice while combing his fingers through her hair and gently rubbing the space between her shoulder blades. "It's okay. I'm here," he reaffirmed holding her tighter as she buried her face in his chest.

Moments after her crying fit ended he offered her the sleeve of his steel blue wrinkled dress shirt. "Let the record show that I have no qualms about being your Boogie Man," he facetiously remarked. "I know it's not a handkerchief, but…" he cleared his throat and spoke earnestly, "are you okay?"

Cuddy managed to crack a lopsided smile and nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine now."

"Because I can be here _all night_ if that's what it takes or," he steered the conversation in an effort to distract her, "_or_ we can be in Spain by tonight."

Her eyes lit up and she was beginning to perk up.

"I'll I have to do is call the airline," he continued. "Then we can take our two week all-expenses paid trip on Jew."

"On me?"

"No. Not you." He pulled away from her and dug into the back of his pant pocket, retrieving his wallet and opening it. "On Jew." He held up what should have been _his_ credit card. "See? James Evan Wilson."

"House." She quietly laughed at his preposterous idea. "We can't do that."

"I know. I only have this because he left it behind in the cafeteria when he bought me lunch," he said placing the card back in his wallet.

"He bought you lunch?"

"He _always_ buys me lunch."

"Knowingly?"

"I was planning on returning it to him."

She folded her arms.

"I was…later this week. Only because there's been a change of plans," he added with a smirk. "So what do you say, Cuddy? Adios Princeton?"

She grinned. "Let's do it."

"Great." House started to unbutton his shirt.

"Whoa. What are you doing? I meant the trip."

"I knew that, " he continued to undo another button. "In case you've forgotten I'm covered in tear drops and snot." He removed his shirt and tossed it aside on the floor. "I was just about to call the airline to bump our flights. Although…now that you've brought it up, it has been a while since we…"

Cuddy turned her back away from him and walked over to her desk. "I hardly call less than twelve hours awhile. Some people do it less than twelve times a year."

"Yes. But now that you've," he pointed to the massive bulge in his pants and thrust his pelvis, "brought _it_ up…"

She sat in her chair and looked at him with a hint of a smile quickly bursting into laughter. "Oh. I can see that. I guess I'll just have to take matters into my own hands," she said rising from her chair again as House approached her. She greeted him with bedroom eyes and fiddled with the loops on his jeans. Then grabbed his waistband roughly, sticking her hand deep inside. Her hand gripped then pulled out his crumpled up shirt. "You always can make me laugh." She planted an extra soft and sweet kiss on his cheek. "Thanks. I feel better."

House leaned back into her and sensuously whispered into her ear, "I can make you feel even a whole lot better if you'd like." Then flicked her lobe with his tongue and sucked it lightly. "I'm promise you'll be smiling for days."

Cuddy nearly gave in to his advances but pulled away. "Aren't you supposed to be calling the airline?"

"_But Mom_," he whined with crossed arms hanging his lower lip toward his stubbly chin. "As you wish, Princess Cuddlecups," he said graciously bowing his head as he carefully headed back toward the couch where he had tossed his cell phone earlier.

Her office was dimly lit. All of the shades were drawn. Only the wall sconces and desk lamp provided any source of light. He blindly searched the cushions at one end of the couch, making his way to the middle. His hand landed on someone's leg. "Ah!" He retracted his arm and stared face to face at Annie and Andy, two full-bodied adult CPR mannequins in matching royal blue jogging suits. House swung his head back to Cuddy. "Holy fuck! Were these always here?"

"They arrived this afternoon. Next week is National CPR week and the hospital is providing free CPR training and First Aid classes."

"Oh." He spotted his cell next to Rescue Annie's knee and quickly grabbed it. "Shit. My phone is dead. Let me use yours." He walked back over to her desk, still bare-chested.

"Wait." Cuddy noticed the green light on her cell phone flashing, indicating a message waiting. "Hang on a sec." She tapped the mailbox icon and placed the phone to her ear.

A female voice came over the receiver. "Hi Lisa. I'm sorry to give you such short notice but Mr. Griffin would like to see you and Dr. House in his office in the next half hour."

Cuddy disconnected the call and bit her lip, looking at the time stamp.

"What?"

"We need to go to H.R."

House puffed out his cheeks and grunted, "Griffin-Dork? Why?"

"Don't know. But he wants us in his office in fifteen minutes."

"Isn't he supposed to be at a conference all week? What could be so important that he needs to…"

"House." Cuddy's eyes grew big as she plopped down on her chair behind her desk. "I think he knows."

"Knows what?"

"About us."

"So?"

"Well, for starters most employers tend to frown against or forbid personal, sexual relationships in the workplace."

"We've been really careful hiding our relationship."

"Says the shirtless employee making sexual advances at his boss in her office." She averted her eyes from him. "Will you please put your shirt back on?"

"Oh I get it." He ran his hand over his chest and flexed his muscles. "This is turning you on."

"House." She threw the garment at him. "Put in on before someone sees you."

"Come on. We've been pretty careful," he assured her, lifting his tear soaked shirt off the floor. "These have been the _only _bodily fluids exchanged between you and me at work."

"Today, yes. The past three months, hell no."

"Maybe we're just jumping to conclusions."

"Then why all of the sudden does Griffin want to see us? Right now? Together? _You_ I can understand. I mean you see him almost on a monthly basis."

"Hey! That's not true. I see him on a weekly basis," he said proudly.

"It must have something to do about us. Our relationship."

House massaged his temples and paced the room. "Okay. This is what we'll do. You check the rules and regulations handbook concerning hospital policy and I'll book our flights. But first, I need to plug my phone in your charger."

"Power strip under my desk."

House got down on all fours and scooted Cuddy in her chair as she logged onto her computer. He crawled below with the intention of searching for the cord but couldn't mind the gap between her legs. And then a thought came to him. "Wait a minute. What am I doing? What are we doing? Let's just pussy out and go home. We can duck out of here and avoid seeing him all together. You said it yourself that we don't have to see Griffin until another fifteen minutes. It's already well after six."

Cuddy looked down at him curled up under his desk. "Good point. Okay, first thing in the morning then. That will buy us more time to prepare for what we have to say to him."

"But what about Spain?"

"House, we need to meet with H.R. anyway about taking time off."

"Fine. But _you'll be_ the first thing I'm doing in the morning," he said gazing back at her middle, staring at the visible contours of her swollen mound through her panties and groping the ground. He put his hand around the length of the charger cord and gave it a tug. "Found the landing strip. Pow…Power strip…I found the power strip."

"You are not going to believe who I just saw," Wilson said, rushing into Cuddy's office.

His entrance startled her and she gasped.

"_Aahh!_" Cuddy sat up straight clutching her chest and one of the arms of her chair. "_You scared the hell out of me!_ I thought you were…nevermind."

Wilson apologized, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude upon you. Are you busy?" A low beam of light from her desk lamp made her more visible and she appeared to be alone.

"Actually," Cuddy pretended to tidy up her desk, rearranging a stack of files near her and packing them into her black briefcase, "I'm heading out. Can it wait till tomorrow?" she wearily asked.

"No. We need to talk."

Wilson closed the door behind him and cautiously took a few steps forward, sensing Cuddy's annoyance. He could tell she really didn't want to be bothered and looked like she had been put through the ringer. Her hair was tousled. Makeup smeared. It looked as if she and House tore one off moments before he interrupted her. He turned away from her and hesitated for a moment then thought it was best to warn her now about Tritter sniffing his nose around the hospital again.

He chucked a finger back at the door. "I just saw," his voice trailed off as he strode over to her desk, dumbfounded even more by her appearance under the light. Her eyes were tired, red and puffy. "Hey. Are you okay?"

Cuddy faked a smile. "I'm fine. Really. It's just been a long day. You don't need to be worried about me." She straightened out the creases in her skirt as she rose from her seat, grabbed her briefcase, "Now if you'll excuse me," and tried to guide him out of her office.

He grabbed her arm and stopped her in her tracks. "Maybe _I should be_ worried about you. I'm already worried about House." His head sank to the floor. "Tritter was here."

"I know," she sadly expressed.

Wilson shook his head and scowled. "What did House do _this time_? He's in trouble _again_, isn't he?"

"No, but you are." House popped his head up from underneath her desk.

"What were you doing under there?"

"I _was_ enjoying the view."

Wilson scrunched his face and looked back at Cuddy, disgusted. "Eew! Were you and House…"

"I was just paying lip service to Cuddy so she'll go way down south to Dixie."

Wilson's mouth hung open.

"I swear it's not what it looks like." Cuddy intervened.

"She's right. _I_ was just plugging something in, " House quipped.

"For once he's actually telling you the truth."

"Yep." House hoisted his half-naked body into to a standing position and placed one hand behind his back while crooking his other arm holding up three fingers. "I needed to plug something in," he said with a wink.

Wilson flailed his arms. "You guys just keep your hands off each other."

House looked at his fingers, bewildered. "This still means Scout's honor, right?"

"Honestly, he was just plugging his phone into my charger," Cuddy insisted.

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Nice try."

House removed his hand from behind and dangled the phone charger before tossing it onto the desk with his cell. He rubbed at his leg as he limped toward Wilson on the other side of the desk. "The power strip is over there and Cuddy didn't want to crawl under the desk. She was afraid her skirt might burst at the seams," he cracked. Then slapped her ass and kept his hand there. "What? You do have a big ass." He gave her cheek a squeeze and smirked. "A big, fine ass. More cushion for the pushin'."

"I'm still in the room," Wilson sang annoyingly to get their attention.

House turned back to him. "Besides you know my methods, Wilson." He grabbed his leather jacket off of the floor along with his crumpled dress shirt and retrieved loose Vicodin from a side pocket. Then wiped at the corners of his mouth before tossing a couple of pills down his throat. "Why would Cuddy and I have sex here? Now? When we always have sex in _your office_ on _your desk."_

"He's joking right?" Wilson roared with laughter and looked at Cuddy. "He better be joking." He fixed his eyes back on a half-naked House. "Look. I'm sorry that I thought you were…" he gesticulated with his hands.

"Fighting off a swarm of bees?"

"No. You know what I'm talking about."

"No. I don't. Just like I don't have the faintest idea why everyone around the hospital has been talking about us."

"About us?"

"Not you. Cuddy and me."

"I didn't say anything to anyone. I swear."

"Wilson, don't make me cram _your_ fist up _your_ ass."

"Okay, so I told one person…two people…ten people max…okay maybe everyone except A & E and Orthopedics."

"I knew it! Because of you Cuddy and I have a meeting with that idiot in HR to discuss our personal relationship in five minutes."

"Perhaps the meeting is about Tritter. Did you think about that? He was here. So you tell me. What did you do to piss him off again?"

Cuddy tired to intervene. "Boys. Boys."

House tapped his cane. "Remember when I told you I had a secret admirer? Well…"

Wilson's eyes bugged out. "Tritter?"

"No, you idiot. Ali—a former teenage patient of mine. The one who had the hots for me."

"_Her?"_ Wilson chuckled. "I thought you said it was a case of _Coccidioides Immitis_ and that her infatuation with you wasn't real."

"Well apparently I was wrong, okay." House finally covered himself, fastening the row of buttons on his shirt. "She was harmless at first, leaving me messages and giving me presents. But last night she turned violent, stalking Cuddy and vandalizing her home."

"Cuddy?"

"Tritter was here delivering the news to us that she was in police custody."

"That's good."

"Glad that we cleared the air. Now if you'll excuse us Griffin is going to be here any second."

Wilson made his way out of the office, closing the door behind him shut.

"James."

Wilson turned around to see the HR Director. "Ernest."

"How are you this evening?"

"Good. Thank you."

"I'm looking for Dr. Cuddy and Dr. House. Have you by chance seen them?"

"Yes. I was just talking to them. They're right here in the office expecting you." Wilson opened up the door again but to an empty office. There were two chairs arranged side by side in front of her desk. And in those chairs were the two CPR mannequins staring back at him—mouths wide open—almost in a mocking way.

"They were just here." Wilson said as he entered the room whipping his head in every which direction stopping near Cuddy's desk.

House grabbed Wilson's ankle and placed his finger to his lips as he and Cuddy hid beneath her desk.

"Ernest, I…I…" he stared at his face, thinking of a way to get him out of the office. "Have you ever had that mole checked?" He pointed at his right cheek.

"No. You don't think…"

"I think, we should go to my office and do a skin biopsy. It's best to detect and diagnose this as early as possible."

"Right now?"

"Cancer never comes at an opportune time."

Ernest reached for his worried face, focusing around the location of his mole. "You think it might be cancerous?"

"I'm saying that. But cancer is my specialty and it's always best to be sure."

And just like that they were out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

House unlocked the door to his apartment and upon entering pawed for the light switch. He politely helped Cuddy remove her coat and limped over to the hall closet. When he walked back into the living room he found Cuddy silent, sitting on the sofa with a blank expression on her face. He cleared his throat before speaking, "You were awfully quiet on the way home. Everything okay?"

She snapped out of her daze. "Huh?"

He sat down beside her. "I said…"

Cuddy bolted upright from her seat, panicky. "I should…I should probably call Griffin and apologize," and paced the room looking for her purse. "I'll just explain that we didn't get the message until now and schedule a time with him to meet tomorrow."

"You sure you're okay? I know that I probably sound like a broken record but you seem a bit jumpy lately."

"I'm fine."

"Okay."

She fished her cell out of her purse and walked toward the bedroom. A minute later she returned to find House in the kitchen searching the cabinets for something. "I wasn't able to reach him so I left him a message saying that we'll meet him at his office at ten."

"Good. I think we should probably call it a day," House suggested, pulling out a small box from the cupboard. "You go to bed. I'll join you in a minute." He placed his hands on her shoulders and massaged them from behind. "I'm going to call the airline and take care of our flight. We'll discuss this business with Griffin in the morning. Go on," he said, shimming her out of the kitchen and down the hallway, leading her to the bathroom. He grabbed a soft, chocolate colored towel from the towel rack at his side. "Here, you wash up," and began walking backward toward the door. "I'll make you a cup of Sleepytime Tea. It'll help you wind down and relax," and then shut the door behind him.

Cuddy sighed and placed her hands on the sides of the white pedestal sink looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She yawned slowly, blinking her sleepy, burning eyes and ran the faucet. Once the water became lukewarm she bowed her head and splashed at her face, then placed her face in the towel, wiping it dry. She stared at the mirror. Her smeared makeup may have washed away, but no matter how hard she tried she still couldn't wash out the bad thoughts.

She shook her head and rubbed at her temples then opened the mirrored medicine cabinet for aspirin. The cabinet was stockpiled with Vicodin on the first two top shelves. Below was a spool of dental floss, toothpaste, deodorant, a bottle of Zinc tablets, a vintage box of band-aids and seemingly, an old can of shaving cream collecting dust in the corner.

She turned back and headed to the door shouting, "House? I've got a slight headache. Do you have any aspirin?"

"Give me a sec. Let me check," he called back to her.

Cuddy spun back around and closed the medicine cabinet and jumped, very surprised to see Ali's menacing face in the mirror next to hers. She closed her eyes and yelped. Then a hand touched her shoulder from behind and she screamed.

"Cuddy? Cuddy? What's wrong?" House said concerned.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" he repeated.

"Yeah, nothing." She clutched her chest. "You just gave me a fright sneaking up on me like that."

"I'm sorry." He handed her a bottle of Ibuprofen. "This is all I've got. Unless you want Vicodin or," he opened up the medicine cabinet, pulled out the box of band-aids, and one of Wilson's medical marijuana joints from inside, "or a spliff." He placed it under his nose and deeply inhaled. "This is some good shit."

"I don't suppose you have a valid prescription for that either." She reached for the ibuprofen. "Thanks, but this will do."

He guided her into the bedroom. "You got another outfit to change into at work?"

"Yeah."

"Good. That will save us a trip to your house." He took the clock off the nightstand. "I'll set the alarm for seven. We should have plenty of time to get ready, get our stories straight and go to the hospital before Griffith sees us." He opened up a dresser drawer, "Here's a clean T-shirt and pair of boxers," and tossed them on the bed, then walked over to the night stand and stirred a spoon of sugar into her tea. "I can add some lemon, milk or honey if you'd like?"

"No, that's okay."

"Drink it while it's hot."

Cuddy began to undress.

"You better be asleep when I get back." House pressed, stepping out of the room to make that phone call and didn't want to disturb her.

Almost twenty minutes later he came back and found her fast asleep. He perched above her sleeping form and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead and tucked her under the covers. He turned off the tabletop lamp beside him and fell asleep, but not well at all.

Cuddy kept tossing around in her sleep, kicking him, tugging the sheets and occasionally murmuring something. She would stop as soon as he would shake her gently but it continued to go on and on during the night.

House groaned and glared back at the clock. It was three fourteen in the morning. He rolled out of bed and rubbed his leg, stumbling blindly in the darkness over to the bathroom. He quietly cracked the door closed and inhaled a couple of pills of Vicodin from the medicine cabinet, worrying and wondering what was troubling Cuddy.

"You look and smell awful," House jeered, slamming the door to Wilson's office.

The door rattled against the frame, rousing and startling Wilson out of his deep sleep. He grumbled as his stiff, achy body slowly rose from the couch where it had been curled up in a fetal position uncomfortably for the past two hours. "Well I haven't showered and shaved _because I haven't gone home yet_!" He vigorously massaged the back of his neck as he made his way over to his desk. "Thanks to you, I was here all night performing biopsies on Griffin. Yes. Biopsies. Plural. On his face, back, arms, between the toes. Everywhere. He wanted me to examine every mole, whether suspicious looking or not, on his pale, veiny naked flesh. I haven't seen that much white skin on anyone since _Twilight_. _And then_, he instructed me to put a rush for the biopsy results and requested that _I do_ the lab work myself. House, I am not doing you any more favors."

"Well, you could have said no and passed the work to one of the other qualified lab technicians."

"The man thought he was dying! He thought he had Cancer. Iput that idea into his head. _I did."_

"Yes. _You_ _did. _You concocted that complete fabrication. _Not_ _me_. You could have easily told him something else."

Wilson resigned and rubbed the sleep away from his eyes. "House, what do you want? Why are you here?"

"I wanted to ask you a favor."

"I just told you I wasn't doing you any more favors."

"Hold that thought." House opened the door and wheeled the female CPR mannequin from the other day into Wilson's office. "She" was wearing one of Cuddy's outfits, pair of fuck-me pumps and sported a brunette wig. "Actually, Cuddy and I wanted to ask you a favor."

"Cuddy?"

"We're leaving tomorrow for Spain and needed a ride to the airport."

"_You_," his eyes shifted to the dummy in the wheelchair, "and _Cuddy_?"

"Yeah. I think I made myself pretty clear."

"Fine. But that's it. This is the last time." Wilson rubbed the scruff on his chin. "What time do I need to pick you up?"

"Around twelve thirty or so."

"Okay, I'll be at your place around noon."

"No." House chuckled and lightly smacked Wilson's back. "Twelve thirty in the A. M., Wilson. We're taking a red-eye flight."

"What?"

"There you are!" Cuddy walked into Wilson's office and yanked House's arm. "We need to be in Griffin's office. Like _now_." She arched her brow catching a glimpse of the made-up CPR mannequin. "What is this? What's she doing here?"

"Wilson's idea. He wanted a threesome."

"House!" Wilson's face turned a smidge red.

"Don't worry Wilson. I'll send Taub over to get the other dummy from Cuddy's office for you." House turned to Cuddy. "Surprise. I asked Wilson if he could do us a favor. He's taking us to the airport tomorrow and has graciously volunteered to teach the classes."

"I? Wait. Wha…What?"

Cuddy was incredibly relieved. "Oh Wilson! Thank you. Thank you! I was worried that I wouldn't find a replacement for Cameron in time after she called in sick."

"I…?" Wilson's head was throbbing and he had a hard time trying to comprehend what was going on.

"Just be sure to be in the clinic before twelve. The CPR and First Aid classes are all this afternoon from twelve thirty to six and tomorrow from nine to two." She pinched his cheek. "Thank you so much," she expressed again before leaving his office with House.

"Great. That gives me," Wilson looked at his watch, displeased, "an hour and a half of sleep."

On their way to see Griffin, House pilfered a roll of surgical tape off of a cart outside one of the hospital rooms. And as Cuddy and he rounded the corner to Griffin's office, he tore a small piece of tape off, placing it diagonally on his left cheek.

Ernest Griffin, Director of Human Resources, was engaged with a phone call when House and Cuddy entered his office. He crooked his egg-shaped head into the phone and summoned them to sit down on the chairs in front of his desk, carrying on the phone conversation with his back to them.

House rolled his eyes and sat next to Cuddy and across from Griffith. They were very familiar with this office. House had spent many hours there, explaining as to why patients and hospital staff lodged complaint after complaint against him. And Cuddy had spent hours as well, always saving his hide and defending his methods of medical treatment and behavior.

The office was pompous and dull, much like Ernest's personality. The walls were painted a drab blue and looked like the color of fresh cement. Large, framed, worthless, unmoving art pieces hung perfectly straight on each wall and clashed terribly with the rest of the office décor. To the left of his desk was a tall file cabinet assigned only to House, as well as a couple of white boxes labeled with his name on them and crammed with complaints, reports and legal documents, mostly from Nurse Jeffrey.

A few minutes later Ernest finally ended his call and turned around to face them, showcasing seven small band-aid strips scattered all over his face. There were two on the bridge of his nose, two more on his right cheek, two on his beach of a forehead and one near his left nostril.

House tried to hold back his laughter. "Your a big Nelly fan _too_?"

Cuddy fiercely looked at a smirking House.

"So, what the hell happened to your face?"

Ernest ignored the question, pulling out a legal pad and fountain pen from his top desk drawer.

House continued bombarding him with questions. "Bar fight? Shaving accident? Popping some pimp..."

Cuddy gripped tightly around House's bad leg.

"Pimples," he managed to sputter out through clenched teeth.

Ernest cleared his throat. "Well, I think you both know why you're here."

House, of course, tuned him out as usual and reclined back in his chair humming _The Munsters_ theme song quietly, staring at the Director's high forehead and incredibly-pronounced widow's peak.

Cuddy grabbed House's bad leg again and sank her nails in deep until he stopped.

"I had know idea this was going on under my nose. When I was informed of this matter I had to call a meeting. Where exactly did the incident take place?"

"Incident?" Cuddy braced herself for the worse.

Ernest's brows shot up. "Was there more than one? I'm going to need to make a full detailed report."

"Do you want the G-rated or Penthouse version?" House articulated.

Cuddy hollered, "House!"

"I really don't see how this is any of the hospital's business. We haven't done anything wrong."

"I didn't say that you did," Ernest retorted. "But nonetheless, a crime was committed."

"All of you need to face the fact that Cuddy and I are good together and you can't break us up."

Ernest's face scrunched up. "Are we talking about the same thing? Detective Michael Tritter contacted me yesterday regarding a stalking case. I have to write up a report since it happened on hospital grounds and needed to know if counseling was necessary for the two of you."

"Oh," House deflated.

"Wait. You and Cuddy are an item? This is not good. I'm going to have to call an emergency board meeting tonight."

House snarled. "What is the big deal? There are countless employees dating or married at this hospital."

"Yes," Ernest coincided, "but since you are under Cuddy…"

"No. Generally I'm on top, sometimes behind," House snarked.

"Since you are under Cuddy's supervision this may pose a problem."

"Cuddy can you give us a minute?" House closed the door behind him with Cuddy on the other side. Less than a few minutes later he joined her again in the corridor. "Okay. We've got our vacation time squared away and need to fill out something called a love contract when we get back."

"What did you say to him?" Cuddy curiously asked.

"I dug up some information on Griffin a long time ago just in case I needed ammo against him. This felt like a good time to use it."

"I guess we should be thanking your friend Lucas?"

"No, I did it all by myself mommy. Surprisingly, that dick isn't such a good dick after all. I mean when I hired him to find dirt on you he came up with zilch. I've heard through the grapevine that he has a lot of shortcomings to work out."

They walked back to the elevator bank and Cuddy smiled. "Great let's go home and pack."

"I could catch some Z's too."

As they stepped into the elevator House saw Chase and called out to him just before the elevator doors closed. "Cuddy and I are going away for a while. You and Foreman are in charge if we have another case."

Wilson was able to catch a few winks on his couch in his office before the CPR training class was to commence but it wasn't enough. He groaned as he stretched his limbs, only to be rudely awakened by a nasty muscle cramp in his calf. After massaging and relieving the massive pain away, he straightened his shirt, raked a few fingers through his hair and wheeled the mannequin out of his office.

He rolled it down the corridor past House's office and halted at the door, peering through the vertical blind slats. He could see House halfway slumped over the desk in his motorcycle jacket, head down near his laptop and venti coffee in hand.

"Didn't go well with Griffith, huh?" Wilson said entering. "I feel like this is my fault. If I didn't blab around the hospital about you and Cuddy this might all be different. You hate me don't you?"

House didn't move or say a word.

"Forget it. You don't have to answer that. And I understand if you don't want to talk to me right now."

He continued giving Wilson the silent treatment.

"Maybe I should just leave."

"Who are talking to?" Chase wondered as he entered through the open door.

Wilson turned around. "House."

"Oh, sorry to interrupt." He looked at the mannequin and made quotations with his fingers. "Are you talking to Cuddy too?"

He rolled his eyes at Chase's remark. "I think we should leave. He's really upset right now and…"

"He seemed fine to me," said Chase. "I was just talking to House upstairs. There's _no way_ he made it here before me."

"What are you talking about?" Wilson gasped. "I've been talking to him for the past five minutes. House?" He walked over to the desk and lifted the head of the CPR mannequin. "_House!"_


	3. Chapter 3

House stood outside his apartment building with his back against the white, brick- lined wall. He was casually dressed in a pair of distressed dark denim jeans, a light gray shirt with stenciled skulls and leather jacket, looking like the essence of cool with one hand in his jean pocket and the other smoothly twirling his cane. A vintage dark brown leather suitcase—one of his prized thrift store treasures—rested at his feet along with his blue backpack.

A few minutes later Wilson pulled up next to the curb in his Volvo and left the engine still running.

"Driver, take my bags then take me to 925 Serpentine Avenue."

He rolled his eyes while placing House's suitcase and backpack in the trunk of the car. "House, I'm not your chauffeur. I'm just taking you and Cuddy to the airport."

"Isn't that what a chauffeur does? Drive a person from point A to point B?"

"Just get in the car," Wilson groaned annoyingly, yawning halfway through his sentence.

House swept a couple of empty cans of energy drinks from the passenger seat to the floor and carefully maneuvered his mangled limb inside the car.

"Where's Cuddy?"

"We need to pick her up."

Wilson whined, "What?"

"Be not afraid, Wilson. Cuddy's house is on the way to the airport."

"So…are you going to tell me why Cuddy isn't with you?"

"Only if you first introduce me to your girlfriend?" House replied referring to the CPR Mannequin in the backseat. "It's a step up from Amber but weird, even for you."

"House, I've been up for almost _twenty-eight hours_ doing you stupid favors and I have to be at work in less than eight hours teaching _yet another_ CPR class and then see some patients. I thought if she rode in the car with me I could drive in the carpool lane and maybe sleep in a bit more."

"Uh-huh, if _she_ rode in the car with you…_She_," he emphasized. "Hey, whatever floats your boat is fine with me. But I think Cuddy would prefer that you didn't desecrate hospital property."

"Speaking of Cuddy…you two… have been inseparable ever since you got together. Did something happen?"

"Wilson. There's no mystery. I had to pack, she had to pack, end of story." He rubbed his leg, slightly wincing.

"Sounds like there's more to it."

House pointed to the puffy, dark circles under his friend's eyes. "You've packed your bags too. See? No big deal."

"Yeah. I'm tired. But not tired enough to know when you're trying to avoid the subject."

"Julia came over and I wasn't in the mood for a fight so I left. Okay? Happy?" He glanced at his watch. "You better put the pedal to the metal. I don't want us to miss our flight."

"We've got plenty of time to get there."

House grabbed his cane, "Not the way you drive," and pushed the accelerator down.

"_House!" _Wilson shrieked, eyes wide.

"Sorry, you were doing twenty in a forty-five zone."

A pair of headlights lit up the large bay window in Cuddy's dining room. She stepped out of the house wheeling her matching tan Coach luggage bags, wearing a whimsical cotton dress with overlapping patterns of dark grey and straw colored stripes. The dress complimented her toned body, cinching at the waist with deep pockets and the skirt falling a few inches above her knees.

House helped her with her luggage and saw Julia peeking through the blinds. "Your sister still here?"

"She'll be out in a minute."

"So she can yell at me _again_?"

"No," Cuddy embraced him, "she's coming too."

House pulled away. _"What?"_

She burst out laughing, clutching at her stomach as her laughter tapered off. "Actually she'll be house-sitting while we're away."

"Good. Come here." He grabbed her by the waist and planted a delicious kiss on her lips. "I missed you."

"Ahem. We should probably go," Wilson muttered breaking their moment by starting the car.

As Cuddy and House got into the car, she looked at him awkwardly sandwiched between the door and the CPR mannequin. "Um…Wilson. You could have any woman you want. Why settle for less? I mean, didn't the forest nymphs teach you how to please a woman?" she quipped.

Wilson gripped the steering wheel tightly, his face turning fifty shades of red. "You told her, didn't you?"

Cuddy rushed alongside a wheelchair bound House at Princeton Airport toward the gate to the aircraft door. "I can't believe you did it again."

"Cuddy, we're going to wine country. I had to bring my nine hundred dollar antique vintner's cane."

Once inside the aircraft, she stopped at a row of two seats just outside of first class next to the emergency exit. There was a man who looked like Foreman, had an attitude like Cameron and was oddly named Chase, sitting next to the door. "Excuse me. I think you're in the wrong seat, she said."

House bit his lip. "He's not. I'm sitting over there. In aisle nineteen."

"What? You mean we're not sitting together?"

"These were the last two seats available on the flight." House looked over at thirty-seven year old Chase Saunders. "Hey buddy, help me out here. Do you mind trading seats?"

Chase stretched his legs out. "No way. I paid extra for this seat. Besides," he looked at House's leg, "you have to meet certain requirements to qualify for exit row seating."

"Take my seat," Cuddy pleaded.

"No."

"House, your leg."

"Hey! You're holding up the line," came a gravelly voice behind him.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," House uttered. "Don't have a cow." He turned to face an overweight man behind him. "Oh, I guess I'm too late."

Thirty-nine year old Alan Wallace looked on, not at all amused. As his forehead bunched and jaw tightened, potato chip crumbs stuck in his thick mess of a beard and fell onto his large, heaving chest. His tight white cotton T-shirt with brownish-yellow stains under the armpits accentuated the appearance of gynecomastia even more. He shifted his stance and adjusted the crotch of his orange polyester athletic shorts that had been riding up his ass and without a doubt splitting his sac.

"By all means, please _moo_-ve ahead of me," House snarked, letting Alan pass. Looking back at Cuddy, he affirmed, "So, we'll be apart for the next seven hours. Big deal. You're going to be stuck with me for the next forty years," he said hoping she would forgive him as they parted company.

A young boy about the age of nine with spiky reddish-brown hair and big brown eyes tugged on Alan's arm. "Daddy, I want to see the cockpit."

"Yeah, I want to see my girlfriend's cockpit," House complained moving his way down the aisle, "but that idiot won't trade seats with me."

"Maybe when we land we can ask the flight attendant," Alan suggested, ignoring House's comment. He stopped near a row of seats, stowing his carry-on in the above compartment and then gripped the sides of the seats, laboriously maneuvering to the middle seat while his son took the aisle seat next to him.

_Oh fuck me! _ House thought as he looked at his ticket and then at Alan. He tried to wedge his body to the window seat, legs chafing against the hefty passenger. "Do you mind?" He said pissed off.

Alan groaned as he stood up, stepping out into the aisle and letting House go by. He then plopped back down, winded. His bulge was spilling over his armrest as he added an extender to his seatbelt.

House placed his backpack underneath the seat in front of him, catching a glimpse of Alan's wrinkled nut sack hanging out of his ill-fitting shorts. The pungent smell of cheese, cheap cologne and an old dishrag wafted over to him. He held his breath for a moment before sputtering out, "This isn't going to work. I'm crippled and you're fat. Switch seats with the kid. I'll be damned if I have to sit like this for the next seven hours."

But Alan spread his knees further apart, hogging every inch of space and leaving him virtually no legroom either.

"_Do. You. Mind?" _ House repeated squished against the fuselage of the aircraft. He forcibly pushed Alan off of the armrest, digging his elbow into his ribs.

Mandy, one of the four flight attendants came down the aisle. "Sir. You're going to need to fasten your seatbelt."

House clenched his jaw. "_I would if I could find it!_"

Sensing his irritation, she kindly asked the portly passenger next to him to switch seats.

"Thank you," House bellowed swapping seats so that he sat more comfortably on the aisle. Just as the flight attendant was about to walk away he added, "Do the oxygen masks come out only in the event of cabin depressurization? Because this guy is pretty ripe." He pointed at Alan, resting his blockhead against the window.

"I'm sorry," she regretfully replied. "I'd put you somewhere else but it's a full flight. There's really nothing I can do."

"I don't know who has it worse, me or the guy stuck in the back of the plane next to the toilets sniffing ass every time someone needs to use the restroom."

"How about I send over a free cocktail as soon as we're in the air?"

"Make it a double." He called after her as she walked away.

"Hi. I'm Neil," said the young boy next to him.

"Good for you."

"What's your name?"

"House."

"House? Is that _really _you're name?"

"Yes. Are you _really_ this annoying?"

Neil stood up and removed his flannel, accidently whipping House in the face with the sleeve of his shirt. "Is this your first time on an airplane?"

"No."

"It is for me."

House puffed his cheeks. "That's fascinating," he mumbled, rolling his eyes at the boy's father who was sawing logs.

Neil searched below the tray table and pulled out an aviation magazine. He leafed through the pages finding a list of interesting facts about airplanes. "Did you know that a Boeing 757 weighs as much as a diesel train? That's 255,000 pounds."

House pulled out his Vicodin bottle. "So as much as your dad, really," he snapped, dry swallowing a couple of pills.

"What's that?"

"Pain killers. I take two every time I have a pain in the neck."

"Oh."

As the flight crew proceeded to instruct the passengers with safety tips, House removed his iPod from his pocket, shuffled through the artists and settled on Keith Jarrett's, _The K__ö__ln Concert_.

"Watcha listening to?" the young boy pestered.

"Something that will hopefully drown out the sound of your voice."

Neil glanced back at his magazine. "Hey, did you also know that…"

House pressed play on his iPod and pointed at the ear buds in his ear, "Sorry. Can't hear you," hoping that the kid would finally take a hint and shut the hell up. Then his eyelids closed shut.

Twenty minutes later there was a tug on his sleeve.

"Did you know that there are over three million people in the air on planes at any one time?"

House shrugged Neil off his shoulder and warned, "Could be two million nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine in the next minute if you catch my drift." He placed his ear buds back in and closed his eyes again.

Time flew by and Cuddy stopped for a visit. She whispered, "Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes," into House's ear.

He smiled like a Cheshire cat, "You must have read my mind," and followed her, trying to act inconspicuous, maintaining his composure around the flight crew who were eyeballing him from the galley. He knocked on the lavatory door a few times, waiting briefly. Then opened the door and smugly crowed, "Cuddy, I'm carrying a _full load_ and the passengers are ready to _get off_."

"_Shhh!_ Are you trying to get us caught?" She checked the door making sure it was properly latched and then with one swift move grabbed the tab of his zipper and dropped his pants and boxers around his ankles. "Mmm," she murmured running her hand up and down his length, licking her lips. "I heard there was a _big snake on the plane_."

House grunted as she gave him one of the most amazing hand jobs ever. He tried to move, fingers probing under her skirt, inching up higher and higher. "It's _so tight_."

Cuddy giggled, "You're not even in me yet."

"No, not your _flight box_. I meant in here. There's barely enough room for one of us, let alone little Greg."

"That's not going to be a problem." She hiked up her skirt, propped herself up on the edge of the counter near the sink and spread eagle with her black high-heeled shoes in the air. "Yoga can do wonders for the body."

Without hesitation House bent down, his face even with her snatch. "This may be the best in-flight meal I've ever had."

"House! No! We need to make this quick."

"Okay." He got back on his feet and grabbed the upper backs of both her legs, positioning himself in front of her. "But you're getting a mustache ride as soon as we get to our hotel."

"Whoa! Hang on a sec," Cuddy gasped, shifting a bit. "I don't want to get too friendly with the soap dispenser."

"We good now?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He feverishly kissed her, nipping at her neck. "I'm so fucking turned on right now," he uttered breathlessly, sliding her thong to the side, pleased that she was already slick and swollen. He moved his hand to her opening, inserting two fingers and then pulled them out. "I see the feeling is mutual," he said smiling. Then he entered his huge stiff shaft into her moist, sweet slot and began ramming her deep.

"Faster," Cuddy commanded spreading her quivering legs further apart, watching his glistening meat move in and out like a jackhammer.

He cupped her bottom and continued to pound her with long, hard strokes, feeling his own orgasm. His balls smacked against her mound furiously, warm juices slopping and smearing all over his skin.

Her hands clawed fiercely at the walls, scraping jagged lines that sloped up and down like an EKG printout. "Thrust," she gasped gripping the back of her knees again, almost ready to release her hold on him.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking," _echoed in the room_. "We are crossing a zone of turbulence. Please return to your seats and keep your seat belts fastened. Thank you."_

"_Thrust!"_ Cuddy begged House, while on the verge of exploding.

"I said, _thrust_! Aren't you listening to me?" Neil tugged at House's shirt waking him from his slumber. He held up another article. "It says here that thrust, drag, lift and weight are the four forces that act on…"

"Let me see that." House ripped the aviation magazine out of Neil's hands and tore it into at least a million pieces. "Oops." He unbuckled his belt as the seatbelt sign turned off and picked up his backpack while shooting a baleful look in his direction. "When I get back, I expect you to keep quiet. Keep your mouth shut or you might find yourself bathing in a bowl of blue sanitation fluid. Kapeesh?"

Neil sat with eyes and mouth agape as the fear set in, causing him to wet his pants.

House prowled down the aisle on the hunt to find some other sap to trade seats with him when he encountered Chase Saunders in his path.

"Your girlfriend's not looking so hot," Chase declared.

"Like _you_ should talk. Last time I saw a face like yours, I fed it a banana."

"No. She's sick. She says she's gonna hurl. You can have my seat," he said, treading in the opposite direction.

A smile played on House's face as he strutted to Cuddy's seat. "Good idea pretending to be…"

His face fell.

"Oh, _no_," he said prolonging the vowel a few beats.

Cuddy glanced up at him looking a little peaked. "I don't feel well," she conceded.

"Well, lucky for you there happens to be a doctor on board. He's sitting right over there a couple rows back. I'll go fetch him."

"Ha, ha, ha."

"Any abdominal pain or discomfort besides the nausea?"

"No."

"Have you been feeling this way for a while or did this just come about suddenly?"

"Let me think. How long have we been seeing each other?"

He grabbed a pillow from the overhead compartment pretending to smother her with it then turned on the air conditioning above. "Find us some quality in-flight entertainment. I'll be right back," he said returning with a can of ginger ale, a plastic cup of ice and a few packets of soda crackers a few minutes later.

"I'm feeling a lot better now," Cuddy admitted, clutching a barf bag,

"You threw up?"

"A little bit."

_Cuddy never vomits at home, _House thought_._

"Maybe it's just my nerves or air sickness?"

He took the barf bag, "I'll take care if this," and slipped it into an empty bag from the Princeton Airport gift shop stashed under the seat from a previous flight. "Excuse me," he called out to a flight attendant. "The gentleman that was sitting here seemed to have left his bag. Can you send this down to him at 19D?"

Then House turned his attention back to Cuddy and poured her the carbonated beverage. "So what did you settle for?" he curiously asked, pulling up the armrest between them, inching closer to her.

"_Friends._"

"What? No _Real Housewives of New Jersey_?"

Cuddy shook her head no. "This is the one where Rachel flies off to London because she realizes that she still is in love with Ross and has to tell him before he gets married."

"Can't say I'm familiar with this one."

"Anyway, Rachel has been annoying all the passengers on the plane and…"

"How _appropriate_ to be showing this on a flight. Monkey see, monkey do."

"And the guy sitting next to her…"

Cuddy placed her hand over her face, hiding her embarrassment.

"Now, don't laugh."

"This is a sitcom. Aren't I supposed to?" House joked.

"I think there is something incredibly sexy about that guy," she confessed.

He squinted his eyes at the LCD monitor mounted on the wall in front of them. "_Him? Really?_ I didn't figure _that _was your type."

"Must be his accent." She looked up at him. "Do you think you could do a good British accent?"

He wagged his brows. "You know I love role-playing games."

Cuddy laughed and rested her head comfortably back on his chest while they finished watching the program.

"I'm really glad you're feeling better," he said, kissing her on shoulder and then closing his eyes.

"Me too," she yawned nudging her head deeper into his chest. The sound of his steady heartbeat put her to sleep instantly.

As the plane hit several air pockets, her head shifted and fell into House's lap. "Your head is on my penis," he chuckled, tiredly resting his hand on the crown of her head.


End file.
